


Summer Last

by raspberrylimonade



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Hook-Up, Lydia can't stop oogling Stiles, Mild Smut, Stiles is forever in awe of Lydia's intelligence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-25
Updated: 2017-12-25
Packaged: 2019-02-17 23:11:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,807
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13087410
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/raspberrylimonade/pseuds/raspberrylimonade
Summary: He ran out the next morning, and Lydia thought her summer fling would be just that - a summer fling. Then the boy tried to contact her by going on the Ellen show to tell the world about their tryst.





	Summer Last

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Stydia Secret Santa 2017 exchange.
> 
> The idea came from a prompt generator I reblogged a long time ago. I looked at a lot of the prompts but this was the most memorable. It was something like "Hooked up on a vacation and never saw each other until now when I see you on Ellen telling everyone about our one night."

“Not your cup of tea?”

Lydia turned her head and quickly found the owner of the voice. She raised her eyebrows, mildly surprised to find someone who looked her age at this event. He was tall, lanky, eating with his hand. His plate was piled with all the snacks the buffet table had to offer - cookies, fruit tarts, spring rolls, you name it. She figured he must have had some sushi too; fat grains of rice clung to his noticeably long fingers.

She gave him a noncommittal shrug. “I’m more into the molecular side of biology, but it’s fairly interesting, I guess. I just haven’t had the best day, and someone was supposed to be here with me, but well...”

She waved her arm at the space next to her. The boy nodded, his whole head rocking back on forth on his head.

“Yeah, I get it. I was dragged here by my best friend, who is now _networking_ with one of the presenters.” He shook his head and chuckled. “I think he’s way too excited to start college. He’s in pre-vet. He loves animals.”

He picked up a mini tart after he spoke and shoved it into his mouth, sucking his fingers off as he did so. Lydia’s eyes were inexplicably drawn to the action, his moving pink lips, his long, slender fingers.

Was it just the tungsten lighting? She had never seen lips so naturally pink in her life.

She swallowed, half-mortified by her sudden train of thought, and chose to pick at her own plate of buffet food. Namely, softshell crab handrolls. (Kind of ironic that they were serving seafood at a symposium about marine wildlife conservation.)

Out of the corner of her eye, she could see the boy watching her. She turned to face him, questioning brow raised, but he simply grinned casually and bit off half a spring roll. The movement brought Lydia’s attention to his mouth again.

“So, you two just finished high school, I assume?” she asked, forcing herself to think about something else. School was a safe topic. She loved school. She could go on and on about academics.

The boy nodded his head vigorously. “Yep. You too?”

Lydia puffed out her chest. “Yes. Well, I could have graduated early, but I stayed on to be with my best friend.”

The boy raised his eyebrows in appreciation. “I get that. I could never leave Scott - my friend - not that I was smart enough to graduate early, though. That’s amazing. So, you took college credits throughout last semester?”

“Last _year_ ,” Lydia corrected, revelling at the way the boy’s eyes bulged out of their sockets, the way his jaw dropped in awe. “Enough to matriculate as a junior.”

She preened as he gaped at her. No one had really reacted to her intelligence this way before. Lydia decided she quite enjoyed it.

“Wow,” he finally managed. “Which school?”

Lydia smirked. “MIT”

“Holy sh- how do you even do that?” he asked, waving his arms and surprisingly not sending any food flying all over the place. “Oh my god. I’m standing in front of an actual genius. So, are you gonna win the Nobel prize someday?”

“Fields medal,” she told him. “I’m studying mathematics. But I might pick up bioengineering too.”

“Wow,” the boy repeated, running a hand through his short hair to express his disbelief. “And here I am, a lowly criminology major.”

Now it was Lydia’s turn to raise her brows.

“That’s nothing to snuff about,” she told him. “It’s important to society. Personally, I find the forensics aspects very interesting.”

“Thanks. And yeah, ‘cause you’re a genius,” he replied through a mouthful. Lydia watched his Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed.

“Forensics is cool,” he babbled, “but I think I’d lose my mind sitting in a lab everyday. I’ve had a string of terrible experiences in science labs. Spilled some hazmat once. Left the gas valves on. Eroded the edge of a bench because I was reacting random chemicals off it. My chemistry teacher hated me, although he later turned out to be complicit in arson so he could have always just been evil...am I talking too much? I’m talking too much. I’ll shut up now.”

He rubbed the back of his neck, sheepishly watching for her reaction. Then his whole body twitched, as if a thought literally jolted him, and he offered his hand.

“I’m Stiles, by the way.”

“ _Stiles?_ ”

Lydia hadn’t meant to sound rude. Fortunately, the boy merely chuckled, unfazed by her reaction.

“Yeah, I get that a lot. It’s a nickname, and trust me, it is a lot easier to say than my real name,” he explained.

Lydia shook his hand.

“Well, _Stiles_ , it’s nice to meet you. I’m Lydia.”

“Lydia,” he breathed. “That’s a nice name.”

“Thanks.” Her voice came out as a whisper.

No one knows how long they stood there, hands clasped between them, eyes locked on each other’s, but it was only when Stiles’ body twitched again, breaking the moment, did Lydia realise what they had just shared.

“Hey, um, do you wanna go for a walk?” Stiles jerked his thumb over his shoulder, towards the waning light outside.

Lydia looked over her shoulder, eyes sweeping the longhouse one last time. None of the posters fascinated her more than the boy next to her, so she shrugged her shoulders and raised her plate to him.

“Sure, just let me finish this.”

Stiles looked down at his own plate, as if just remembering all the food he had piled on it. “Oh, right.”

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

Stiles was good to talk to. That is, when he didn’t go off long, unrelated tangents. Like when Lydia explained that Allison wanted to go for a run and so didn’t accompany her to the symposium, he launched into an account of all his Most Tragic Accidents playing lacrosse.

“Scott was always the athletic one, even with his asthma,” he told her. “He became co-captain in sophomore year. Then the other captain moved to London - not that he was missed, he was a total dick - and Scott reigned until graduation. I remember summer the summer before he became co-captain, he trained super hard for it. He blew me off so many times to practice. I kept trying to make him watch Star Wars.”

“You know he hasn’t watched Star Wars? Like at all?” Stiles was saying now. “He doesn’t even know who Darth Vader is. So many jokes have been wasted on him. I had to watch The Force Awakens _alone_...”

He launched into a theory about Rey’s parentage.

He had already told her all about werewolf folklore as well as human sacrifices throughout history.

Lydia had to admit, he actually was smart. Before long, he had moved on from Rey and engaged Lydia in a discussion about how gravity worked on the Death Star. And there was actual _physics_ involved.

“You’re so freaking smart, you know?” he told her, when they sat down on a rock outcrop. Lydia couldn’t believe she actually spent energy talking about Star Wars.

She cocked her head. “I thought that was established.”

Stiles gestured a hand at her. “Yeah, but you’re like, IQ 174 _and_ beautiful.”

He remembered the exact number. He called her beautiful. Lydia felt her cheeks heat up. The sun was only just starting to set due to the season. She wondered she was as red as the sky. She wondered if Stiles could see her blush.

“Really?” She asked, keeping her eyes on his face.

In the golden light, Stiles’ eyes were like pools of honey with a mysterious light glowing within, and they were trained on her when he answered.

“Really.”

The hand that had gestured up and down her body reached out again, and for a moment Lydia anticipated the feel of his palm against her cheek. But then he dropped his arm, drummed his fingers on the rock next to his lap instead.

Before she knew it, Lydia was covering his hand with hers, stilling his fidgety movement.

“You’re not too bad yourself,” she told him.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Maybe it was the way the long rays of sunlight cast on the sand. Maybe it was the connection they felt as two smart individuals drawn to each other’s intelligence. Maybe it was the way Stiles treated her. He’d held her hand and called her beautiful.

Whatever it was, Lydia suddenly felt the need to kiss him, so she leaned in. She saw Stiles mirroring her actions right before her eyes fluttered shut. His nose brushing against hers was her only warning before their lips collided.

Warm. Stiles’ mouth was so warm. His lips were soft, just like the rest of him. One of her hands had found purchase on his upper arm, his curling behind her neck carefully as his lips moved oh so slowly over hers, giving her time to adjust. In return, Lydia tilted her head and pursed her lips further, free hand moving into his hair to pull him closer to her, deepening the kiss.

They broke apart when they heard a dog barking. Not five seconds later, a man and his terrier ran past. Lydia cleared her throat. Stiles was looking at his lap, rubbing the back of his neck.

Lydia had dated before, but she had never taken to someone so fast. She always played hard to get, made the boys come after her for a week at least, teasing them, before she’d give in and let the fun begin. Yet here she was, with a boy she made out with within a day of meeting him, and she wanted more.

“Do you want to go somewhere more private?” she asked, heart pounding.

Stiles’s head snapped up to look at her. “I, uh, um, I don’t really know…”

Her heart faltered.

“I mean, I’d like to, if you want, but I don’t know any places since me and my friend are sharing a room, and a bed, because they ran out of rooms with two singles so…”

Lydia nearly laughed in relief.

“My friend and I are in my family’s beach house, where I have my own room,” she told him, grabbing his hand. “Come on.”

They managed to walk side by side, all the way back to the beach house that Lydia’s family owned. The moment she shut the front door, Stiles’ hands were all over her.

“A-Allison could be h-here,” Lydia stuttered as he smothered her face with kisses.

“She’s not,” Stiles replied. “You said you two haven’t unpacked, and I don’t see any extra pair of running shoes anywhere.”

His open mouth painted a hot line down her neck.

“What are you, a detective?” Lydia panted. She arched as one of Stiles’ large hands pressed into her small back, pressed her chest against his as he started sucking on her collarbone, his other hand supporting the back of her neck. He was clever, handsome, and pulling her into him. She loved it.

Stiles hummed into her skin. “Mmhmm, aspiring cop, actually.”

“Criminology,” Lydia recalled. “That is _so hot_.”

She felt rather than heard his chuckle, reverberating through his body.

“Not as hot as you, Miss MIT.”

She slammed her lips into his. The momentum sent both of them towards the staircase, just what she wanted.

“Take me upstairs,” she ordered.

Stiles moaned in acknowledgement.

Lydia wasn’t sure what she was expecting. She had not specifically thought about Stiles sweeping her off her feet and carrying her up the stairs, but she hadn’t really thought that they would stumble their way up together, Stiles a step ahead of her. When they approached the top, Stiles bounded to the top of the landing. He somehow managed to keep holding her hand, long arm outstretched, giving Lydia a good view of his sinewy forearms, lightly dusted with hair. He pulled her up the last few steps and laughed when she tumbled into him, sending them crashing into the wall. Lydia used her lips to shut him up.

His mouth was better at other things anyway.

By the time they made it into her room, Lydia’s hands were running up and down Stiles’ arms, while Stiles’ had crept under her shirt. He tried to take it off as they fell onto the bed, but it got caught as she tried to loop her arms around his neck. This time, they both laughed.

Lydia removed the piece of clothing and gave Stiles a coy smile. “Your turn.”

It took him a while to comply, his eyes slowly taking in her body, her bare skin. His mouth was gaping like it had right before he called her a genius. But then he was pulling his shirt over his head, and Lydia found herself reacting similarly.

She’d seen model-worthy bodies before, chiseled abs and bulging muscles. Stiles looked nothing like that, but Lydia had never been so in awe. He was lean but toned, with nice broad shoulders and the slightest definition of muscle. Moles, scattered all over, stood out against his pale skin, as did the dark trail leading into his pants. It was there Lydia placed her hand, spreading her fingers out against his skin, and smiled when she heard Stiles’ intake of breath.

She slowly slid her hand up, up, over his stomach and chest, until finally she found her way behind his neck to pull him to her. When their lips met this time it was slower, sweeter. They kissed as if they had all the time in the world to explore each other’s mouths. Lydia untucked her legs from underneath her and leaned back. Stiles caught on and braced one arm against the bed, the other wrapping around her slim waist.

Lydia sighed as her back softly settled onto the mattress. Stiles moved away from her lips and started kissing a trail down her body. Lydia’s back arched as he went. She felt his lips linger right above the waistband of her skirt, felt his hands start to caress her thighs just above the knee. She sighed in anticipation, eyelids fluttering shut. But then she didn’t sense any more movement from Stiles.

Pushing herself up, Lydia found his eyes on her, watching, waiting.

“Can I - ”

“Yes.”

“I haven’t even said - ”

“Yes, Stiles, you can take my panties off. Preferably now.”

He smiled softly and muttered, “Just making sure.” Then his hands found the side of her hips and started pulling her skirt and panties down together.

She saw his head duck between her legs, and then his lips were on her core. Lydia’s head fell back, and she let out a long, breathy moan as Stiles’ tongue worked its wonders.

Her ragged breaths filled the room as she held Stiles’ head to her, her fingers tangling with the tips of his short but soft hair. It was both a way of anchoring herself and telling him _don’t stop, keep going, don’t -_

Her pleasure rolled over her like the tides on the beach outside. When it subsided, Lydia blinked her eyes open to find Stiles hovering over her, silently asking for her evaluation. She answered by sitting up and kissing him.

She kept Stiles busy with her lips while she undid his fly and shoved his pants down to his knees. He only caught on when she started pulling at his boxers as well, and adjusted his position so that she could push them down all the way, using her feet to finish the job.

When he was properly naked, Stiles snagged her around the waist and rolled over so that she was on top of him. Lydia stilled, her hand finding purchase on the sheets right above his shoulders. No one had conceded to her like that before. No one had so willingly given her control, ever.

“You okay?” Stiles asked. He must have taken her stillness for hesitation.

Lydia gave him her most convincing smile.

“Yeah. Yes, everything is fine, I was just trying to recall where I kept the condoms,” she told him.

She reached for the bedside drawer, but Stiles’ hand came up to stop her.

“We don’t have to, if you don’t want to.”

His was looking at her so earnestly, Lydia couldn’t resist kissing him again.

“I want to,” she assured him. “If you want it too.”

He nodded and kissed her, releasing her arm. Lydia leaned over to reach the drawer again, and Stiles took the opportunity to unclip her bra. She shrugged it off as she straightened again, before waving the foil packet she’s retrieved.

Soon, she had rolled the condom onto Stiles and was lowering herself onto him. Stiles skated his hands up her thighs as she found a steady rhythm. They finally settled on her waist, just resting there, not gripping.

Even with her on top of him, Stiles was _so_ active with his mouth. Appraisals of her beauty fell from his lips for every move she made.

“You’re gorgeous,” he mumbled. “Oh god - you’re so beautiful. Oh my god.”

It didn’t take long before Lydia started to feel herself lose control again. Her movements became jerky. She fell forward, fingers curling around Stiles’ shoulder, head burying under his chin as she cried his name.

Stiles carefully rolled them over, pausing only to adjust himself between her legs, before finding the rhythm she had set.

“It’s okay,” he mumbled. “It’s okay, I got you, I got you…”

“ _Stiles,_ ” Lydia moaned as she lost control, and she felt Stiles release too, whispering her name into her skin.

For a while they lay together, bodies pressed together but for Stiles breaching himself on one forearm so he wouldn’t crush Lydia. Their deep breaths were in sync.

Finally, Lydia loosened her grip on Stiles’ torso, letting him slip out to get towels. When they’d cleaned themselves up, Lydia tossed both towels into a corner and pat the bed next to her. She tugged on the covers when he crawled in, silently asking him to stay. Stiles didn’t comment as she pulled the covers over their bare bodies, but obliged and grabbed a pillow. Lydia instinctively rolled onto her side as Stiles shifted closer to her. She leaned back against his chest. One of his arms found her waist again.

She twisted her neck to look at him. “I didn’t give you one back.”

“You don’t have to.”

“What if I want to?”

He pecked the corner of her lips. “You can do it tomorrow, if you still want to.”

“I will,” she said firmly. Then she couldn’t help but yawn.

Stiles chuckled softly and nuzzled the back of her neck, causing her to relax and turn back.

“Goodnight, Lydia.”

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

She woke up to the feeling of lips on her neck.

Stiles mumbled in his sleep, lips puckering and unknowingly leaving wet kisses on her skin. Lydia smiled when he hummed softly and tightened his arms around her waist, pulling her closer and pressing his face to her shoulder. One leg curled further up into his body, knee pressing into the back of hers, pushing her leg up with his, tangling their limbs further.

Lydia found herself leaning back into his embrace. Stiles’ body radiated heat. A good kind, warm and comforting, not the sweltering kind that bared down on the beach outside. His hold was firm but gentle. No one had cuddled with her like that before. It was nice.

She was just slipping into sleep again when a strange rock song started blaring throughout the room. Stiles jerked in the bed. He fumbled to retract his limbs from around her body as he sat up, and Lydia mourned the loss of skin contact.

Stiles’ arms flailed as he pushed himself up and over his haunches until he was crawling to the edge of the bed, leaning over to reach their clothes. The position gave Lydia a _fine_ view of his ass. She couldn’t help sitting up to get a better look. However, Stiles soon pulled himself back up, pants in hand. He shook his ringing phone out of the pockets and swore when he saw the screen.

“Shit,” he mumbled, swiping his thumb across. “Hey Scotty, yes, I know, I’m - I just - I’ll be right there, okay?”

He’d retrieved his boxers and started pulling them on one-handedly, struggling to get his long legs in the right places without kicking her. He dropped his phone when the call ended and pulled on his pants with greater ease.

He turned to her while his deft fingers worked at the fly, eyes wide and wild for someone who had just woken up.

“I’m so sorry,” he breathed. “This looks really bad, but my friends and I are doing a west coast trip, and our train - I forgot - and, uh - ”

He trailed off, head whipping around. He spotted something on her side of the bed and literally launched himself over her before tumbling to the floor.

Lydia held the covers up to her chest as she scooted to the side of the bed, peering at Stiles as he pulled his T-shirt out from where he had landed on it. He looked up, as if sensing her eyes on him, and reached up to squeeze her covered knee.

“I like you. A lot,” he told her, his voice suddenly soft. He quickly pulled his last piece of clothing over his head and stumbled to his feet, reaching over her legs for his phone. The object had been buzzing with incoming messages since he discarded it at the foot of the bed.

“I wish I could stay. But my best friend will murder me if I don’t - _oh fuck_ ,” Stiles rambled as he checked his phone again. He waved his arms exasperatedly, as if the action would somehow calm his frantic state. Then his head turned back to Lydia again, meeting her confused gaze.

He leaned over and cupped her face with one large hand.

“I’m really sorry about this,” he whispered, his lips hovering a bare two inches away from hers.

He gently connected his forehead with hers. Their noses brushed, and Lydia gasped in anticipation of one last kiss from his soft, soft lips.

But he pulled away, straightened, checked the small bedside clock, and then he was fumbling his way to the door again.

He paused in the doorway, turned around and shot her an apologetic look.

“Call me!” he yelled.

And then he was gone.

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

She never called. He didn’t leave his number.

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

The rest of summer came and went. Lydia spent her days flipping through her MIT course catalog, tagging all the interesting classes with colourful post-it flags. She completed two online courses, and by the time she flew to Massachusetts, was already a third of her way through junior year.

Stiles’ face would flash behind her closed eyes at night. His warm eyes, his messy hair, his soft smile. Sometimes she would wake up with the ghost of his touches brushing her skin. Whenever that happened, Lydia would clam down on her thoughts with logic. Realistically speaking, she would never meet Stiles again.

(Shame, he made her feel good. Really good.)

It happened a month into the semester. It was a Wednesday morning, the time Lydia paid the campus gym its weekly visit. She was warming up on the elliptical and her gaze was drifting across the room when she saw the television screen airing the Ellen show. Sitting on the couch opposite the host, was Stiles.

Curious, Lydia stopped the music on her phone and connected her earphones to the elliptical’s audio port instead. Stiles’ voice filled her ears the moment she’d adjusted for the correct channel, bright and jovial.

Stiles was dressed in a royal blue three-quarter sleeved crewneck that hugged his torso and arms in all the right places. His pants were tan, like the khakis he’d worn at the beach. His hair was neatly tucked under a blue and orange baseball cap that matched his shirt nicely.

He looked as good as she remembered, all twinkling eyes and animated hands.

And he was talking about their tryst on national television.

“She kept saying my name,” he said. “And I was saying hers. It just felt...amazing, like, I don’t know how to describe it without saying too much.”

Ellen Degeneres chuckled. “So the short version is that you had one hell of a night.”

“Oh, yeah,” Stiles answered, nodding vigorously. “Best night of my life. Except for the part where I had to catch a train in the morning and forgot to leave my number.”

“What’s her name?” the host prompted.

“I’m not sure I should say,” Stiles replied, and Lydia exhaled in relief. If he was going to make a fool of himself sharing their hookup on TV, at least he wasn’t dragging her down with him.

And yet, aghast as she was, Lydia could not help admiring him.

His shirt was just the right shade of blue that you could see the shadows defining his biceps when the light hit it right - such as when he went to rub his neck. Whenever they switched to a close-up camera angle, she could see the golden flecks in his irises, watch his long lashes flutter as he blinked incessantly, count the moles on his face.

His hair was curling at the back of his neck. Lydia remembered how it felt between her fingers during their first kiss. At one point he took his cap off, and if she noticed that it had grown longer, well, he was the one drawing attention to his hair by running a hand through it. She imagined his mane free from the confines of the offending headwear, a nest of unruly curls.

She was panting now, and it was not because she had been on the elliptical for fifteen minutes.

“But it’s not just the sex, you know?” Stiles was saying. “She was beautiful, great to talk to, and really smart...I just felt like we had this kind of connection, you know? Unspoken, of course.”

The audience ooohed. Stiles ducked his head, clearly not expecting such a reaction.

Ellen leaned over and placed a hand on Stiles’ shoulder.

“Alright, I want you to look at the camera there,” she told him, pointing with her other hand. “Imagine that girl is somewhere out there, watching. What do you want to say to her?”

Stiles looked straight into the camera, and Lydia felt as if he was addressing her directly through the screen.

“Hey, um, you know who you are. Assuming you remember me, that is,” Stiles started.

“I hope you remember me. I’d really like to meet you again. So, uh, if you don’t already think I’m pathetic for resorting to going to live TV, you can find me by uh…”

He trailed off and turned to the host.

“I gotcha,” Ellen told him, then she turned back to the camera. “If you are the one that Stiles is looking for, go to Ellen-dot-com-slash-You’re-the-One to tell us your name, school, and…”

“The last thing I said to you,” Stiles finished.

Lydia spent the rest of her day pondering whether or not to reach out to Stiles. Allison egged her on to. Lydia thought it was ridiculous. The link was probably already flooded with false submissions.

She kept putting her decision off to the next day, and eventually the link was closed altogether.

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

It was a Saturday night when she got the call.

“I found your soulmate.”

Lydia did a double take. With midterms around the corner and a research project lined-up, she had not given much thought to Stiles and his little TV stunt. Allison’s words had caught her off guard.

“He’s not my soulmate.”

“Unspoken connection.”

“If I didn’t actually enjoy talking to him, that would sound totally creepy.”

“But you _do_ like talking to him.”

Lydia could practically hear Allison grinning over the phone. She refrained from actually rolling her eyes. Allison would picture her doing it anyway.

“Come on, Lydia,” Allison whined. “Don’t you wanna know how I found your Summer Nights Danny Zuko?”

Lydia cringed at the thought of her and Stiles with those 70’s hairdos. Allison launched into her story anyway, recounting excitedly how she almost ran over a dog, and panicked until some guy named Scott directed her to the nearest animal clinic.

“...and when he smiled, oh my gosh, Lydia, he had the cutest dimples.”

“I thought this was about my ‘soulmate’.”

“It _is_ ,” Allison insisted, making a _shh_ -ing noise. “Just listen. So, I went for lunch with him and asked each other the standard stuff, you know, what’s your planned major - he wants to go to medical school and become a _vet_ , isn’t that cute?”

“Allison.”

“Right, so we were telling each other about ourselves, and when I told him I last lived in San Francisco, he told me about how he passed through in summer, and one of his friends hooked up with a girl and is now so determined to find her again that he went on Ellen for it.”

“So technically, you didn’t find Stiles himself,” Lydia deadpanned.

Allison hummed non-committedly. “Are you disappointed? I did find out a lot about him. He’s a California native - grew up in Beacon Hills, drives an old blue jeep, and right now, is studying in LA.”

“And that information is important because…?”

“You can track him down!” Allison basically yelled.

Lydia scoffed. “He’s the one who wants to be in law enforcement, _he_ can track me down. Although I’m seriously questioning his common sense, since he decided that going on a talk show is a legitimate way to find someone.”

Despite Lydia’s repeated dismissals, Allison continued to bring Stiles in conversations. Especially after Allison and Scott started dating. Lydia was very happy for her best friend, but she wished she didn’t always have to hear about the total _dumbass_ that was her summer fling.

As the semester drews to a close, Scott invited Allison to visit his home during winter break. Allison, naturally, wanted Lydia to come along. It was the perfect opportunity to meet Stiles again.

“Come on,” the girl begged one night when they were face-timing. “Stiles sounds really into you. Scott said he insists that your hair is strawberry blonde and gets offended when their friends call you a redhead.”

Lydia opened her mouth to retort. “But I _am_ \- ”

She stopped short. Stiles, as much as she loathed to admit, was right. Her hair was not a deep nor bright shade of red. Rather, it was a mix of gold and reddish hues, depending on how the light hit it.

Strawberry blonde.

“This doesn’t mean anything.”

Allison smirked, and Lydia briefly considered slapping her laptop shut. Then her friend’s lips turned into a pout.

“Please, Lydia, for me? I don’t want to be there alone. What if it gets awkward?”

Lydia took one look at Allison’s expression and prayed for Scott’s resistivity.

“Fine,” she sighed. “When do our breaks overlap? We’ll need to know Scott’s too…”

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

The semester was over in the blink of an eye. Allison and Lydia spent Christmas back in San Francisco. Since Allison’s mother and aunt passed and Lydia’s father left for good, the two families had Christmas dinner together. It was a small, easy-going affair, and the girls would have a sleepover after. This year, the Argents hosted the event, so Lydia slept at Allison’s. The next day, Allison drove them to Beacon Hills.

It was almost dinnertime when they pulled up in front of Scott’s house. Scott himself was waiting on the porch, making his way down the steps before Allison killed the engine. He offered to help with their luggages, and Lydia could see the heart eyes Allison was making at him, so she announced that she would bring the food and gifts they’d brought in.

Scott ran back to open the door for her. “The kitchen’s just straight through the living room. You can see the entryway. My friends are in there, they can show you where to put everything.”

Lydia nodded, giving Scott her sweetest smile before making her way into the house.

_My friends are in there_ , Scott had said. Stiles was in there, just one room away from her.

She heard him before she saw him, making an animated case for the Loch Ness monster’s existence. Stepping into the kitchen, her eyes immediately spotted him in the far corner, leaning against the counter. He had a Coke can in one hand, the other waving around as he rambled to the guy standing with him.

He started speaking more intensely, his voice lowered, his gestures more precise. He turned to put his rink on the counter and when he turned back, that was when it happened.

Lydia could pinpoint the exact moment he saw her. First his eyes met hers, and eve across the room, she could see how bright and gold they were. His mouth dropped open, and Lydia watched, almost in slow motion, as he blinked once, twice, three times in disbelief. Then the corners of his mouth pulled up into a wide smile.

“Lydia.”

God, she missed hearing his voice say her name as much as she missed watching his lips form it.

The back of her mind was screaming for her to say something as she took a step towards him, but Stiles, being Stiles, beat her to it.

“I - wow - what are you doing here? I mean, not in a bad way - I just didn’t expect it. You’re here,” he said, in a single breath.

“I’m here,” Lydia breathed. Then, because she felt the need to explain. “I came with Allison.”

There he was, blinking again, rapidly. Did he have to do that? His long eyelashes looked absolutely luscious.

“So you’re Lydia!” a new voice butted in. “Stiles mentions you a _lot_.”

She’d been so enraptured by Stiles that she hadn’t noticed his companion coming to stand next to him.

“You don’t talk,” Stiles muttered, half-heartedly shoving the other boy aside.

The boy had gave them and impish grin and walked out of the kitchen laughing.

“Don’t mind Liam,” Stiles said. “He is always annoying. So, uh, how are you doing?”

Lydia responded by smacking his chest.

“You!” she exclaimed, as Stiles flailed backwards, giving him no time to react. She jabbed a finger at him, revelling in his shocked expression. “You are the most ridiculous, insane, annoying person I have ever encountered!”

Stiles stuttered. “Lydia - what - Lydia?!” But Lydia pressed on.

“Why the hell did you tell everyone?” she continued. “So we slept together and it was great. But then you announced it on national television!”

“I was just desperate to find you!” Stiles explained. His hands were held at shoulder height, in surrender. “I admit, it wasn’t my best idea…”

“You told everyone! It was supposed to be private! We had _something_ , now everyone knows and it’s just - just - ”

“We had something?” His voice was a low whisper.

Lydia backtracked mentally. _Did I say that?_

She opened her mouth, but no words came out, and she ended up simply staring at Stiles, folding her lips.

She was saved by Scott, who entered with an older couple. Allison was trailing behind them, and the brunette raised her brows when she saw Lydia standing there with Stiles.

“Hi Lydia!” Scott called brightly, oblivious to what he had walked into. “This is my mom. Mom, this is Lydia, Allison’s friend.”

“Please call me Melissa,” Scott’s mother said as Lydia shook her hand.

Scott brought the older man forward. “And this is Sheriff - well - ah…”

“Noah Stilinski,” the man introduced himself. Lydia choked on her greeting. _Stilinski?_ As in -

“I see you’ve met my son,” Noah said, waving at Stiles. Lydia looked over her shoulder to see Stiles wave back and shoot his father a wink. “I hope he hasn’t said anything too weird to you.”

“Oh!” Scott exclaimed, a shit-eating grin forming on his face. “Did Allison tell you about the Ellen thing?”

She heard Stiles groan, and Lydia decided to make him explain himself.

“Hmm, yeah I think she mentioned it,” she said, turning to face Stiles with arms crossed and challenging eyebrow raised. “I wanna know what _that_ was about.”

Stiles’ red face was worth it.

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

“Hey, do you want to go for a walk?”

Lydia studied the boy before her. He was leaning against the kitchen island, fingers fiddling in his lap. The sight had greeted her when she stepped out of the bathroom.

She glanced at the entryway, where she could see Allison and Melissa laughing, presumably at Scott and the Sheriff, who were on the other side of the coffee table, out of view.

She turned back to Stiles.

“Did you wait here for me?”

“Yeah,” he answered immediately.

His eyes were big and sincere. He had really waited just for the chance to talk to her.

“Okay,” Lydia decided.

“Okay?”

“We can go for a walk,” she clarified.

“Oh, right,” Stiles said. “Or I mean, like, we could just stand outside, because it’s late, and dark, and - ”

He caught her raised eyebrows.

“Right,” he repeated. Then he held his hand out for her to take.

So here they were, standing just outside the McCall’s backdoor.

“I didn’t want to give that many details,” Stiles started as soon as the door shut. “The producers made me because it would gain more attention.”

“What made you think going on national TV was a good idea in the first place?”

Stiles rubbed the back of his neck, which, as usual, inadvertently showed off his arm, even in the red hoodie he was wearing. Lydia swallowed and tried not to be distracted.

“Yeah, not my best of plans,” he admitted sheepishly. “You don’t even look like you watch talk shows, now that I think about it.”

“I don’t, it was playing in the gym,” Lydia told him. “So, did anyone respond to the link?”

Stiles chuckled. “Yeah, there were a couple of people who asked me out. Most of it was just my classmates making fun the whole thing, though.”

He paused, then, “Just out of curiosity, do _you_ remember the last thing I said to you?”

_I like you. A lot. I wish I could stay. I’m really sorry about this_.

She could hear his words in her head, clear as day.

“You said you were sorry,” she answered. “And you asked me to call you.”

“Would you have?” he asked. “If I had actually given you my number. Would you have called me?”

His was fiddling with his fingers again, eyes darting between his shoes and her face.

_Would she have?_ Moving on after that night had been easy because calling had not been a legitimate option, but what if it had been?

Lydia thought about how she had put off the link until it had closed.

She settled on an answer.

“I don’t know,” she began. “But, if you give it to me now, I will call you tomorrow.”

Stiles blinked at her, mouth hanging open. Then he fixed his face in a smile and pulled his phone out. Lydia did the same.

“Actually,” he started, once their numbers had been entered into each other’s phones. “Do you want to go on a date tomorrow? With me?”

Lydia didn’t have to think. She knew Allison wanted to spend time with Scott anyway.

“Yes, I’d like that.”

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

Stiles slept in (Lydia shouldn’t have been surprised), so they met up after lunch, with Stiles picking her up from Scott’s in his jeep, which was indeed blue and very old. He drove her around for a “pre-date”, as he called it, pointing out different places in town.

When they finally pulled into the carpark behind an ice-skating rink, Lydia decided Stiles must have consulted Allison.

“I talked to Allison,” Stiles said, confirming her thoughts. “And she told me you used to skate but had to stop when your local skating rink shut down, so I thought, we could come here and you can show me all the skills you remember.”

_Prepare to have your mind blown_ , Lydia thought. _I remember a_ lot.

A signboard outside the rink said it was closed for the day. When Lydia rapped her fingers against the posterboard, Stiles simply shot her a wicked grin.

“I might have pulled a few strings.”

They sat side-by-side on a bench, lacing up their skates. Stiles offered her a bright orange jacket when she commented on the cold temperature, but Lydia turned it down.

“I’m wearing blue,” she said, primly. “Orange and blue? Not a good combination.”

“But it’s the colors of the Mets!” Stiles insisted.

Lydia recalled the baseball cap he had worn on TV. Now that she thought about it, the underside of the bill had been the same bright orange as his jacket.

She guessed Star Wars was not the only thing Stiles was passionate about.

Lydia shook her head and stood. “Are we skating or what?”

They did a few warm-up laps around the rink together. Stiles flailed a lot at the beginning, but surprisingly stayed on his feet throughout. By the third lap, he was perfectly balanced.

Lydia pulled ahead of him as they began the fifth round and whizzed past Stiles twice before she decided it was time to try some of her old tricks. She skated into the middle of the rink and wide arcs. Then she made her circles smaller and smaller until finally she was doing spins.

She had to admit, she missed this. She missed the feeling of gliding across the ice, arms outstretched like a dancer. She missed the way the cold air would whip around her face. She missed the stretch in her muscles as she performed various tricks.

She giggled happily as she completed a fast set of pirouettes, exiting the spin perfectly. When she looked up, she spotted Stiles standing across the rink, jaw dropped.

She skated up to him and took his hand. Stiles continued gaping at her, awe written all over his face. Lydia’s smile grew wider.

“Well?” she said, when he continued gaping at her. “Come on.”

She moved to skate a few more laps, pulling Stiles after her.

It must have been hours before they headed back into the bleachers and removed their skates. Stiles offered her a two-pack of Reese cups when they clambered back into the jeep. Lydia was going back to Scott’s for dinner with him and Allison, while Stiles was bringing his father dinner at work.

He walked her to the porch when they arrived at Scott’s. Lydia noticed he had been looking at the ground as they made their way up, and figured he was nervous again.

She placed a hand on his shoulder. “What is it?”

Stiles lifted his eyes to meet hers.

“This is my last night back before I leave,” he explained sadly. “I have an attachment at LAPD for winter intersession.”

“Oh,” Lydia said. But also - “That’s great though, isn’t it?”

“I just don’t want you to think I’m leaving again,” he confessed.

There was a fuzzy feeling in her chest. Perhaps it was her heart melting.

Lydia took his head in her hands.

“Stiles,” she assured him. “I like you. A lot. You’re funny, and sweet, and pretty smart.”

Stiles laughed through his nose. “Thanks. That means a lot, coming from you, Miss Future Fields Medal.”

Lydia shook her head, flustered by the casual compliment. “What I mean is, we’re both smart, so I think, between us, we can figure something out.”

Stiles’ face lit up like a Christmas tree. “Really?”

Lydia nodded, a small smile playing on her lips. “As long as you don’t do anything ridiculous like going on TV.”

Stiles stepped back and ran a hand through his hair. “I am never living that down, am I?”

Lydia was full on grinning now. Her grin grew wider and wider as Stiles playfully asked her to “stop, Stop it! Stop looking at me like that!” until it was almost splitting her face.

“Also,” Lydia added. “Allison’s spring term starts earlier than mine, so, if you wanted, I could go to LA for a while…”

“Really? You’d do that for me?”

Lydia took his hands in hers. “I still owe you one, remember?”

Stiles adjusted his hands, tangling their fingers together. “You’re amazing, you know that?”

Lydia began to answer, _of course_ , but then the buzzing of a phone distracted them.

Stiles pulled one of his hands away to retrieve the offending device from his back pocket.

“I can’t believe this is happening again,” he muttered, and shot Lydia an apologetic glance before bringing the phone to his ear.

“Hey dad! Yes, I know. I’m on my way. No, the jeep did not break down once today. Yes, I’m still with - no! Dad, no, oh my god - well, that was...yeah, I don’t really have anything to say about that…”

He looked up at Lydia as his voice trailed off, and Lydia had a feeling the sheriff had figured out she was ‘the one’.

“...mhm, yes, yes, and _yes_ , you know it’s for your own good. I’ll see you soon, dad. Love you.”

Stiles ended the call with his father and turned back to Lydia.

“I should go,” he sighed. Lydia only nodded in understanding.

“Scott’s coming to send me off tomorrow,” Stiles continued. “You could come along - if you and Allison don’t have any plans. I mean, I can’t guarantee you’ll get to spend a lot of time with me because Scott and I will be hugging each other a lot, so…”

Lydia chuckled. She had seen the previous night how Scott and Stiles could not keep their hands off each other when they talked. They were always patting each other on the shoulder or the back. It wasn’t a stretch to imagine the two locked in an endless bear hug.

“I’ll be there,” she told him, reaching for his hand again. Stiles obliged.

He squeezed her hand once. “Well, goodnight, Lydia.”

He had taken two steps towards his jeep when he suddenly spun around. Lydia just managed to catch the mischievous glint in his eye before Stiles had lunged forward and planted a quick kiss at the corner of her lips, a soft _mwah!_ escaping from his.

He was grinning when he pulled back.

“Goodnight!” he repeated as he backed away from the porch.

Lydia was too stunned to answer. She let out a little gasp of breath. Her fingers came to rest lightly on her lips.

When she came to her senses, Stiles was climbing into his jeep.

He waved when he saw that she was still looking at him, then made a phone sign with his hand, bringing it to his ear.

He winked. _Call me_.

This time, she knew she would.


End file.
